


Tool

by withinmelove



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:26:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5585311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinmelove/pseuds/withinmelove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nux has realized he is not just a tool and Slit refuses to believe him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tool

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KukkiisArt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KukkiisArt/gifts).



> This is for the mad max secret santa! My partner was kukkisart I hope you enjoy your gift!

Christmas had become Nux’s favorite holiday besides Halloween events that Miss Giddy had taught the War Pups about and who in turn had told him. She was trying to bring back some semblance of the culture she had known before, but who knew what would truly hold in this new world. He knew in part the reason Halloween was so favored by the others was it allowed them to paint themselves white again. Furiosa had not banned their practice outright but had managed to have Cheedo, Capable and even the Dag convince the War Pups to do away with it. She had been smart to start with the young and work her idea through the ranks up to the War Boys. 

He himself had begged Capable to help apply his paint during his time of being bedridden, sure that either his tumors or wounds would finish him off soon enough. She had said nothing about it, neither defended nor attacked his continued practice. It had been Cheedo who questioned him when it became clear that his grievous wounds wouldn’t take him in the night why he kept painting himself for death. 

“I’m a half life. Larry and Barry will kill me instead.” He shrugged. 

“But -,” a look of frustration came to her face as she tried to reason him out of wearing his paint, “You don’t have to do what Immortan says anymore! Or should Max have left you to die?” Nux gaped at her, shocked speechless. Such words had never fallen from her mouth before. Furiosa, or Toast, even the Dag with her eerie eyes were more likely to say something to that effect but never Cheedo, never the baby of the Wives. She lifted her chin at him, pressing her advantage.

“If you wear that paint, it would have been better if Max _had_ left you. At least you wouldn’t be throwing his gift of saving you in his face.” With that said, Cheedo stood and left Nux to his thoughts. The next morning though his fingers itched to perform the habit he did not turn his skin milk white. If there was one thing Nux would never do it would be seen as ungrateful for the second chance at life he had been given. 

Soon he grew used to not having his white skin, and while it still felt unnatural, it was not horrible. 

“You’re not chrome!” A voice accused him, the sound jarring Nux. It couldn’t be. He had died in another explosion and yet Nux’s eyes did not lie when he turned around to see an angry and bewildered Slit. He stood up from where he had been playing with the Dag’s baby, who she still had not yet named. Slit was badly burned and not all his bones had been set right or soon enough but still Nux felt the urge to reach out and hold him in welcome. When they had been War Pups and sometimes even as War Boys, Slit had sometimes let Nux hold him. There was no doubt he would not let a traitor hold him now. 

“We’re half lives but more than that. More - more,” Here Nux struggled to put into words his reconfigured ideas, “Not corpses but _people_.” It didn’t capture all that he meant but Slit’s curled lip and sneering eyes said he would not have listened anyways. 

“You’re mediocre givin’ up Valhalla for _people_.” He spat, the word turned nasty in his mouth. Nux could see how in Slit’s eyes he was to be scorned and ridiculed, not a true believer to turn his back on what had been their entire lives. He was changed from the Wives being in his life, their presence and ideas. The epiphany had come with Angharad’s words “We are not things.” as he realized it had not just been about her sister wives but had included all of the people under Immortan’s rule. How he himself was not a tool only good enough to die. Today just like all those, before Slit’s words hurt, but he would not give in, could match Slit when he chose to. Nux shook his head. 

“Not mediocre. you’re broken, you still think you’re a tool. You’re a full life.” 

Nux took Slit to their place of worship still with its towering steering wheels more polished and less abused these days. On both sides of the entrance were deep bowls that held their white chalk, enough for many to come a day and pray. He didn’t have to look at the other man’s face to know what he would find there. Superiority, anger, disdain. In he dipped his hand before he covered his head, neck and shoulders. Usually he did take the time to do his whole upper body, but not with Slit at his side. 

In this sacred place, Slit was silent and Nux went through his daily prayers, thoughts smoothing out. It took great forces to change and Nux knew that Slit hadn’t received his yet, nor that he himself could not hurry such things along. When he stood to leave, the other man did not, eyes still set upon the tower of steering wheels deep in his worship. Nux did not disturb him, instead washed off his paint and left to find the Dag’s baby. There would be no point to wait for Slit; it was clear he refused to be swayed from his beliefs, and Nux knew further attempts would only cement his certainty. Quite the bitter irony, how he had once worshipped Slit’s manic devotion and now he could not be more repulsed. 

It wasn’t until the Citadel had quieted and settled in for the night - as much as an enormous city ever did - did Slit come and find him. Nux heard his footsteps - could tell it was him by how he stepped - come to the doorway of the nursery and looking up from the Dag’s baby saw sure enough there he stood. Slit still wore his paint but there was a difference in his posture. There was no longer the defiant look to his eyes, the rigid jutting out of his chin. The change had begun, that much was obvious just from how Slit had come after him. It would not have happened had Slit refused to believe in what Nux had told him. He dared to hope one day his shiniest friend would truly understand he was more than just a tool.

**Author's Note:**

> Solovei my beta helped to put in all the commas!


End file.
